Five a Day
by My Personal Rose
Summary: Quinn needs these moments, she waits for them. She craves them. Faberry.


_**A/N: So this is a Faberry. A Quinn/Rachel one-shot unless I can think of something to add to it. And I hope you like it. If you do, be a dear, and tell me. =)**_

In the morning Rachel will smell like bananas. This is reliable, consistent. Quinn knows Rachel will smell of bananas because they're a part of Rachel's routine.

She wakes up at 6am sharp and drinks her low-fat protein shake with flak seed and banana.

The banana stays on her lips until Quinn meets her at her door, car keys in hand, and a wry smile on her face. Rachel calls goodbye to her dads, and they tell her they love her, and then the door is closed and Rachel is outside it, leaning into Quinn's arms in a kiss that says 'I missed you last night' and 'Hello' in the same moment.

It stays this way. Banana's happen until 10am, when Rachel heads to the vending machine in the cafeteria, as per usual, and puts in a dollar for a carton of OJ.

Quinn always waits outside the cafeteria, watching every passerby ready for her. She watches their clothes, because no one dresses like Rachel. And when Rachel appears her arm is quickly tugged towards the nearest janitor closet, and Quinn relishes in the new taste. The orange is sweet on her tongue as explores and re-explores every inch of Rachel she can reach. She catches the small drip that's escaped, and trickled down the side of the singer's lips. Those pouty lips that Quinn used to loathe. Now she can't leave them alone, if her lips aren't on them then her eyes are, watching Rachel sing, or talk, or even eat. Anything.

Only so long can be spent in the closet, because Rachel won't be late for class, and so Quinn is left, licking her lips and waiting for 12pm to come around.

Because then it's lunch, and Rachel will taste completely different.

The hardest bit about lunch is that Quinn always has to force herself to wait, to get rid of the craving she has then. Because Rachel's lips are only meant to taste one way at 12pm.

And that's of apples.

She'll always eat everything else first, seemingly unaware of Quinn watching her place her lips around her food. Although sometimes Quinn will glance at Rachel's arms, and see the goose bumps raised along her skin. The last thing she'll pick up is the apple, turning it around in her hand. The movement is painfully slow, and Quinn usually squirms, now unable to focus on any of the words from her friends. The lips part, and Rachel's teeth find a bearing on the apple.

Ninety percent of the time Rachel isn't even half way through the apple before Quinn stands up abruptly and leaves. Rachel always follows her to the bathroom, and always locks the door behind her. She always tastes sugary, the dry tang of the apple balanced by the juice still wetting her lips as Quinn pulls them as close to her as she can, _tasting_ all she can before lunch is over.

Before Glee, Rachel opens up her thermos flask, and pours herself a cup of chamomile and lemon tea, with a hint of vanilla. She always offers it to Quinn, but Quinn always shakes her head. Not because she doesn't like the stuff, nor because she is denying the good that Rachel says it would do her throat.

Quinn doesn't want to drink it because she wants to wait. Chamomile, vanilla and lemon should only be allowed on Rachel, and never in a drink. Of course the smell is the most agonising part of this. The way it fills Quinn's senses, and clouds her mind. The way it makes her lick her lips

This is the worst one, Quinn feels, because it's so hard to find a moment. Of course, she always does. This week it's in a spin. They move from person to person. Quinn spins Kurt, then Mercedes, then Finn and then Rachel. And it's Rachel she pulls towards her, one arm around her waist to push their bodies together. The scent of the vanilla, it's husk, sends her a little crazy. Their faces stay close and, as they turn, Quinn gives a little tug on Rachel, lifting her up for just a moment. But a moment is all Quinn needs to catch that bitter sweet taste, pulling away almost as soon as their lips brush. Rachel is- once again- left blinking as Quinn spins Brittany. She turns her head a little to catch the brunette's eye, licking her lips for another hit of that sour tang that makes her skin tingle.

Rachel keeps her favourite fruit till the evening, after dinner, and she makes sure the fridge is always fully stocked with it. Quinn is devoted to the same cause, keeping an eye out. One box short of three and Quinn will buy more.

Quinn knows Rachel loves them, and so that means she loves them. And she finds the taste awful nowadays (cravings and morning sickness…) if she ever tries to eat them any other way. Just plain, or flavoured, or even in sweets and she feels so nauseous she just wants to curl into a ball all day.

But Rachel… when they're on Rachel they're her favourite thing in the world. Quinn fidgets through pudding. She tries to make small talk with Rachel's dad's as they ask her how her day was, and give her tips or advice. At this point, watching Rachel lift the next strawberry to her lips, the best she can offer them is 'mmm' and 'aah'. The occasional nod is also sent their way, but her eyes are always on Rachel. The only other movements Quinn makes is licking her lips, her legs crossing and uncrossing.

When Rachel announces that they'll be rehearsing in her room, and not to interrupt them her dads' only smile and nod their heads.

The door is shut as soon as their both across the threshold of the sunny room, and Quinn takes hold of Rachel. Her hands are on Rachel's waist, and she's directing- almost pushing- her towards the bed. She starts on the neck, brushing away the long dark hair that covers the skin. Her lips find Rachel's pulse, and the singer lets out a small, quiet groan.

She moves up, past the jaw line and towards the deep red of Rachel's lips, dyed from the fruit. The juice is still fresh, and Quinn's tongue flicks out, tasting all she can. Rachel's hand breaks away from under Quinn's shirt, aiming blindly for her iPod dock. She hits play, and a song comes on, but Quinn doesn't even notice what it is. She's too caught up, in Rachel, in strawberries. In the way she tastes like summer.

Breathless, Quinn pulls back, once again licking her lips as she smiles down at Rachel.

"Hey." Rachel breathes, and Quinn laughs, collapsing onto the bed, and burying her face into Rachel's shoulder. "You okay now?"

Quinn nods against her, and Rachel turns onto her side to look her in the eye.

"I'm fine. Now." The ex-cheerleader shrugs. "I just wish you didn't taste so damn good."

"It beats having to go shopping to feed your cravings." Rachel grins, her hand lifting to run through Quinn's blonde hair. "Though sometimes I wonder if that's all I am."

The words are said with a smile and a small laugh, but Quinn can sense the seriousness.

"Of course not." She smiles back, her hand moving to where Rachel's sits in her hair, covering it with her own. "It's you I like. The way you taste is just a bonus. And a test of my willpower."

Rachel smiled, and the blonde's eyes fall back to her lips, before Quinn leans forward, unable to let go of that taste of summer.


End file.
